Seven days felt like a long, unending nightmare.
Only a handful of candidates survived this year's Final Selection:
Kamado Tanjiro, Tsuyuri Kanao, Shinazugawa Genya—and…
the one currently sitting on a large boulder, calmly wiping blood from his blade—
Hashibira Inosuke.
His mask had been pushed to the side, revealing that exquisitely beautiful face.
Though his luxurious haori was dusted with grime, the way he sat there made him look more like a noble on an outing than a survivor of hell.
"Ah… I lived… I actually lived…"
In a corner, a blond boy was curled up into a ball, muttering what sounded suspiciously like last words.
Inosuke's ear twitched. He immediately recognized that familiar, sobbing tone.
Snapping his iron fan shut, he jumped down from the rock and strode over with an utterly lawless swagger.
"Hey, Stripey."
He kicked the boy lightly in the rear—not hard, but with unmistakable territorial authority.
Zenitsu shot upright, tears and snot flying everywhere.
"Waaah! Who was that?! A demon?! The sun's out, why is there still—eh? You?!"
He recognized the underworld young master who had once treated him to tea and tried to recruit him as a lackey.
"B-Big Brother?!"
As if seeing family, Zenitsu clung to Inosuke's leg.
"You're here too! That's great! You have to protect me from now on! The demons here were terrifying!"
"Let go. Your snot's getting on my clothes."
Inosuke pushed Zenitsu's forehead away with his fan, clearly disgusted—yet the corner of his mouth lifted in satisfaction.
"Since you survived, your debt to me still stands. From today on, you're my Number Two follower."
"Number Two?"
Zenitsu froze. Inosuke pointed at Tanjiro, who was standing nearby with a gentle smile.
"That one's Number One."
Just then, the mohawked Shinazugawa Genya stormed forward, radiating hostility. He grabbed one of the guiding girls by the hair.
"Don't mess with me!"
Genya roared.
"Where's my sword?! Give me my color-changing sword right now! I don't give a damn about the Demon Slayer uniform!"
"Please let go," the girl said flatly.
"I said give me the sword! Are you deaf, damn it?!"
Genya shook her violently.
Tanjiro was about to rush forward when his vision blurred—
A familiar figure had already moved.
"Hey. Rooster Head."
A lazy voice sounded beside Genya's ear.
"That's public property. You break it—can you afford to pay?"
Genya spun around, but before he could see who it was, a sharp pain exploded in his wrist.
Inosuke was already behind him, slender fingers clamped precisely on his pulse point.
"You bastard—"
"Shh."
Inosuke raised a finger to his lips, smiling in a way eerily reminiscent of Doma.
"My dad says being that rough with girls gets you hated, you know. Let me teach you some manners."
Before the words even finished—
Crack!
With a smooth twist of his wrist, Inosuke snapped Genya's wrist cleanly.
"Aaaagh!"
Genya screamed, releasing his grip and staggering back, cold sweat pouring down.
"See?" Inosuke said calmly.
"Now you're letting go."
He took out a handkerchief and leisurely wiped the fingers that had touched Genya, then tossed it away like trash.
"Next time you want a sword, remember to say 'please.'"
Without sparing Genya another glance, Inosuke turned to the two girls and inclined his head slightly.
"All right, it's quiet now. Please bring out the swords. I'm on a schedule."
Zenitsu trembled violently at the side and whispered to Tanjiro,
"Tanjiro… our big brother… is he actually from the underworld?"
Tanjiro gave an awkward smile.
"Well… Inosuke-kun is actually very reasonable… probably."
"That didn't look reasonable at all. That looked like straight-up gang rules…"
...
After choosing ore and receiving their Kasugai Crows—
Inosuke found the crow too ugly and nearly plucked it to roast it.
The poor bird had been traumatized ever since and refused to come within three meters of him.
The group returned to Mount Sagiri.
The moment they reached the gate, Inosuke kicked the wooden door open.
Urokodaki Sakonji came out. The usually composed old man's shoulders trembled beneath his mask when he saw both disciples return alive.
He rushed forward and pulled them into a hug.
"Thank goodness… you came back alive…"
Tanjiro burst into tears at the warmth of the moment.
Inosuke, however, stiffened completely.
In the Eternal Paradise Cult, he had always felt that his father's hugs were cold, false—performative.
As a child, he never believed Doma held him out of love.
Perhaps it was for Kotoha's sake… or simply because he found Inosuke amusing.
But now—
The warmth coming from Urokodaki's rough hands was real. Hot. Genuine.
This unfamiliar affection from an older man unsettled Inosuke deeply—almost frightened him.
"Hey! Old man! Let go!"
He struggled fiercely, his face turning red.
"It's too hot! Don't wipe your snot on me!"
Though he cursed nonstop, he didn't push Urokodaki away.
He turned his head aside, looking at the sunset through the eyeholes of his mask, clicked his tongue softly—
and didn't move again.
...
Half a month later, Mount Sagiri welcomed a special visitor.
A swordsmith wearing a fiery mask—
Haganezuka Hotaru.
"I'm here to deliver the swords."
Haganezuka sat down, opened his bundle, and took out three brand-new Nichirin blades.
"These were forged from the ore you chose."
He handed one to Tanjiro first.
Tanjiro drew it—and the blade instantly turned pitch black.
"A Black Blade?! A Sun-Burned Child… black is the worst luck!"
Haganezuka nearly strangled Tanjiro in rage.
"Enough with the clowning."
Inosuke cut in impatiently, sitting cross-legged on the tatami and extending a hand.
"What about mine? I specifically asked for two."
Haganezuka finally turned to him and produced two blades from behind his back.
"Hmph, brat. I don't know why you want two, but I used my best craftsmanship."
Inosuke took them.
Heavy. Cold. Gleaming. Clearly masterworks.
"Breathe. Pour your strength into them," Urokodaki reminded from the side.
Inosuke tightened his grip.
An icy chill flowed through his body—sharpened by Water Breathing training.
And deep inside, that faint spark of stolen Sun Breathing quietly pulsed.
Humm—
The blades began to change color.
Everyone held their breath.
The steel turned into a crystalline, translucent ice-blue, radiating chilling frost.
But along the edge of that ice-blue blade, a strange dark-red pattern emerged.
Two completely opposing colors—coexisting on the same sword.
"W-What color is that?!"
Haganezuka was stunned.
"I've been forging swords for decades—I've never seen this!
Ice-blue mixed with blazing crimson?! What kind of breathing style is this?!"
Inosuke's eyes flashed with satisfaction—then his brows furrowed.
"The color's… acceptable."
He weighed the blade, looking displeased.
"But it's too smooth.
This kind of junk will slip when cutting bone."
"What?!"
Haganezuka froze.
"You're calling my sword junk?!"
Ignoring the smith's meltdown, Inosuke stood up, carrying the two new blades into the yard. There sat a large blue stone used for grinding beans.
"Inosuke-kun? What are you doing?"
Tanjiro felt a deep sense of dread.
Inosuke smiled faintly.
"If it's my sword, then it has to grow into the shape I like."
He raised the priceless, master-forged Nichirin blade and smashed it against the hardest edge of the stone.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Sparks flew.
The crisp metal impacts drew a pig-slaughtering scream from Haganezuka.
"Aaaah! Stop! What are you doing?!
That's my sword! My child!!!"
Inosuke ignored him, calmly smashing again and again—
Chipping the smooth blade into jagged, uneven serrations.
Clang!
When the first blade was finished, he switched hands and lifted the second.
"Noooo!!!"
Haganezuka rushed forward in despair, only to be restrained tightly by Tanjiro.
"Haganezuka-san! Please calm down! This is just… Inosuke-kun's style!"
Moments later—
Inosuke examined the two now-mangled, serrated blades and blew off the stone dust in satisfaction.
"Hah…"
He crossed the blades. The jagged teeth bit together with a teeth-grinding screech.
"Now this feels right."
Turning around, he looked at the foam-mouthed Haganezuka, and the helpless Urokodaki and Tanjiro.
He sheathed the twin blades, pulled out his iron fans, and pinned them to his chest.
Luxurious clothes. Sinister aura.
This bizarre combination somehow formed a unique style—his style.
Just then—
The Kasugai Crow that had been hiding from Inosuke finally dared to fly over, trembling as it perched on the fence.
"Caw! Mission! Mission!"
"Proceed to the northwestern town!
Young women are disappearing! Slay the demon!"
Inosuke gazed into the distance, emerald eyes unreadable.
"So it's finally time… my first mission."
He touched the serrated blade at his waist.
"Gonpachiro, Stripey should be there too, right?"
A meaningful smile spread across his face.
"Perfect. The three of us…"
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